Immortal Longings: the quest of Voldemort
by JinnyJ
Summary: Voldemort seeks immortality through a magical amulet associated with vampires. The Order must find it first, a mission entrusted to Snape. Meanwhile Harry uncovers another layer to the prophecy, and is convinced it means there is a traitor.
1. Prologue

Snape breathed shallowly, and concentrated on emptying his mind. He did allow a bitter resentment of Harry Potter to float to the surface of his thoughts. That, after all, did not strain his skills at deception very deeply.

He did not even attempt to hide the dread seeping icily through every cell of his body. Voldemort would be disappointed in him otherwise: not to mention deeply suspicious. Voldemort both preferred and expected his allies to fear him.

This was most especially the case since, just now, Lord Voldemort was annoyed. Possibly, 'in a towering rage' would have been a more accurate description. What was more, his fury was not general, but directed very specifically at one Severus Snape. This reflection did little to ease the twisting in Snape's guts.

"You let that Potter boy live," Voldemort stated flatly. His red eyes flared dangerously.

"I'm sorry, my Lord," Snape responded, striving to keep his voice both humble and fearful. The 'fearful' part came quite easily. "I did not foresee that he would survive . . . I have failed you, my Lord…."

"Yes," agreed the Dark Lord tightly. "You have. I am disappointed. I do not, Snape, appreciate disappointment."

He flicked his wand casually and watched in satisfaction as Snape convulsed, consumed by waves of burning agony. It was not, of course, the first time Lord Voldemort had seen fit to punish him with the Cruciatus curse. This was one circumstance, however, for which familiarity did not breed contempt. Distantly, Snape could hear that bloody snake slithering around and hissing smugly. Snape thought vaguely how pleasant it would be to wrap the thing around Potter's neck.

Voldemort was especially disgruntled on this occasion. He kept Snape under the curse for longer than usual. When he had finished, Snape's whole body remained racked with pain, and twitched uncontrollably.

Snape had a particular dislike of not being in control. Through the red haze of his own screams (he did not know whether they were merely in his head or uttered aloud), the only coherent thought he possessed was: this is _all – Potter's – fault_. If Potter had not, yet again, transgressed the rules, he, Snape would not be here now. He would not have had to put himself in the position of pretending to harm Potter for the benefit of Voldemort – while actually contriving to keep the ungrateful brat alive.

Not a thought to entertain in this place, even fleetingly, even in the buried recesses of his mind…he gave in to the roaring fires of pain…

Snape lay apparently unconscious on the floor when the messenger was invited to enter and present his report.

"My Lord," the visitor murmured, grovelling deeply. There was something odd about his voice. And with him had entered a peculiar smell: earthy and rotten at the same time.

Voldemort turned his gaze from Snape, whom he had continued to regard with deep displeasure. Reluctantly he decided he had better call it a day at that point. After all, Snape would be no use to him at St Mungo's in the next cubicle along to the Longbottoms. However tempting such a thought might be at the moment...

"I have good news, my Lord."

Snape was dizzy, and barely able to hear. Through the fog, he grasped just two phrases, both uttered and received with deep excitement: "…vampires…!" and, "finally, the Amulet of Anima…".

He filed them carefully in his brain before collapsing into total oblivion.

* * *

Dumbledore frowned. 

"Severus," he said gently. "I really think you should call for a healer to treat you…"

"How…would…I …explain this," Snape managed through gritted teeth.

He was in his own chambers at his London house. Normally, he had a profound dislike of revealing his weaknesses to anyone, even Dumbledore. But the high note of triumph in Voldemort's voice when he received his message had made him think it must be urgent. He had therefore contacted Dumbledore immediately upon his painful, dragging return to his home. He had just managed to speak to Dumbledore in the fire before staggering to his bed and finally collapsing.

"Can brew..a potion…as well as anyone…"

"I do not doubt it. Only, ah, perhaps," Dumbledore added delicately, "not just at this precise moment, however. Do you have anything already brewed in your store I may fetch for you?"

Snape moved his head in a feeble nod. "Elanthian Skullcap," he muttered. "In my study. Third shelf…Good for damage to nerves."

Dumbledore rose and retrieved the potion. He picked up a glass and returned to Snape's side.

"Here, Severus," he said.

Snape tried to reach out a hand for it, but to his disgust fell back wracked by fresh spasms.

"How much do you need?" Dumbledore asked neutrally. His face was grave. He poured the medicine into the glass, and despite Snape's sputtering protests, himself raised his head and trickled the liquid between his lips.

"What do you think he is up to?" Snape demanded finally, lying back with his black eyes half-closed. "I have never heard of this Amulet of Anima."

Dumbledore paused. "Nor I, Severus, nor I. I will seek to discover its nature as soon as can be. As for vampires…This is disturbing news, Severus. It is fortunate that you overheard that conversation. If Voldemort has entered into alliance with the vampires, the consequences could be serious. It is surprising, though. The vampires normally pay little mind to our world, and certainly have never before had any thought of casting their lot in with any human power."

"I would remind you, Albus," Snape said through gritted teeth, "that the Dark Lord's interest in vampires goes beyond alliances." Sweat sprang on his brow once more.

Dumbledore looked down at Snape with compassion.

"I think I will leave you to sleep now," Dumbledore said then, correctly guessing that Snape found it no comfort to be observed in his less than flourishing condition. "I will return to check on you in an hour or two. If you need me, Severus…just call."

Snape again inclined his head slightly. Dumbledore moved slowly across the chamber and Floo'ed back to the Order of the Phoenix, casting one last glance behind him. His eyes betrayed both sorrow and guilt.

It was he, after all, who had requested that Snape play this game.

And yet, he could not be too sorry, given the value of the information they had just learned. Vampires! Dumbledore felt foreboding prickling along his spine. And that amulet…a stray memory plucked in the depths of his mind. He creased his brow thoughtfully. Anima, the Amulet of Anima…mentioned in the same breath as vampires... could that be just another name for…

Dumbledore's eyes widened and his breath sucked in.

He needed to call a meeting of the Order, and he had to find Harry. Now.

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	2. Chapter One: Unexpected Guests

Harry lay flat on his bedroom floor, ear pressed to the carpet. If he really concentrated, he could catch an occasional word from the Muggle early evening news. He sighed. None of what he heard was very helpful. The odd phrases he did make out were too disjointed to get much sense from. The fragments he heard seemed normal enough. He supposed he could assume from this that the Muggles remained blissfully unaware the Second War was underway. When he thought about it, that was all to the good. 

He was, again, very frustrated. He understood now why Dumbledore insisted he spend at least part of his holidays here with the Dursleys. It did not make the actual experience any pleasanter. Of course, life had improved immensely thanks to the scare tactics employed by certain members of the Order of the Phoenix when seeing him off at King's Cross. Between Mad Eye's rolling eye and Tonks' electric hair, the Dursleys were – Harry grinned – _persuaded_ – that mistreating him too badly would be a mistake.

This was the first time in years, however, that Harry had been obliged to spend Christmas here in Privet Drive. He suspected it was because all key members of Hogwarts staff were heavily involved in Order of the Phoenix business. The school was closed. No student had been allowed to remain for the holidays. Those who usually did so had been sent to stay with friends or relatives. Dumbledore had insisted Harry come here to the Dursleys for at least a week.

Christmas with the Dursleys! What a dreadful idea… Harry's thoughts involuntarily flew to the memory of the previous Christmas, with Sirius, at 12 Grimmauld Place. The familiar pain flooded him. He tried to push it aside and cheer himself up by reflecting that he would soon be back at the Burrow, enjoying a Weasley-filled New Year. He imagined wistfully what the Weasley household would be like for Christmas itself. Bill and Charlie were both in England; Percy had patched things up with his family sufficiently that he would be there, although his brothers and Ginny still thought he was a complete prat. Fred, George, Ron, Ginny…Harry sighed regretfully. They would all be wearing clashing hand-knitted jumpers, and the smell of plentiful good food would fill the house. It would be noisy and cosy, and Mrs Weasley would undoubtedly be shouting at the twins about something or other – probably a Weasley Wizarding Wheeze gone horribly wrong.

Being shouted at was something Harry could experience all for himself, right here in Little Whinging. As he lay there, he became aware that Uncle Vernon was bellowing up the stairs at him about something or other. Reluctantly, Harry pulled himself to his feet.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon?" He was trying his best to be polite.

Uncle Vernon eyed him suspiciously through his piggy little eyes.

"Boy," he barked. "What are you up to?" Harry did not consider this worthy of a response. It seemed anyway to be an automatic question, for Uncle Vernon continued straight on. "Christmas," he said. "Mrs Figg just offered to have you for the day. Says she wants someone to clean the drains. Says she understands we'll want some family time without a delinquent hanging around the house. Damn good of her."

Harry suppressed a smile. Uncle Vernon had no idea that Mrs Figg was actually part of the wizarding world. Even so, he doubted that spending Christmas day with her and her numerous cats would be a barrel of laughs. But it had to be better than spending it here with the Dursleys. He had already been informed that he would be confined to his room for the day. "Can't have you ruining the big lad's Christmas!" Uncle Vernon had roared. "What's the point in spending a fortune on presents for the tyke if you're going to spoil it all by sitting in the same room as us?"

As Harry had no desire to sit in the same room with the Dursleys, he had not been too disappointed by this. However, spending the day shut into his room in solitary confinement had not been his idea of a great Christmas either. Going over to Mrs Figg's had got to be better than that. Maybe she would have the most recent editions of the _Daily Prophet_ for him to look at….

Harry had not been getting any news at all from his friends. Hedwig was with Hagrid. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had been quite horrified enough at seeing Harry again before the next summer. As Uncle Vernon had developed a near-phobia for owls, Harry had reluctantly agreed to leave Hedwig behind. She had been most put out. She had pecked his ear so hard it nearly bled, and gazed at him reproachfully with enormous yellow eyes.

Uncle's Vernon's little eyes were now on him.

"OK," said Harry. "Mrs Figg's for Christmas. Fine. Can I go now?"

Uncle Vernon thought hard. His face went even redder with the effort. "No," he said eventually. "You can go and wash my car. Do you good, you worthless layabout."

Harry sighed. He had promised Dumbledore he would make a sincere effort not to blow anyone up this time. He supposed cleaning Uncle Vernon's car wouldn't kill him. Even if it was dark and raining.

He had second thoughts about that an hour later as he laboured under the harsh light of the security lamp. It was very cold. His hands, wet with suds, were frozen almost solid. The air was filled with a dank, dirty drizzle which made the whole task seem pointless in the extreme. Grimly, Harry persevered, chilled to the bone and shivering. But he couldn't complain to his Auror friends because he had been told to wash a car…. Not that he could even contact them thanks to Uncle Vernon's loathing of Hedwig, he thought bitterly.

To add to the pleasure of the occasion, Dudley was lounging very visibly in the lighted window, making rude gestures at Harry. He had opened the curtains and pulled aside the nets specially. Harry finally got thoroughly sick of this. He made as if to pull his wand out of his jeans pockets… it was always fun watching Dudley's reaction to this…

"MUUUMMMMMMMMM!" Dudley howled. Harry could hear him even outside. "HE'S POINTING HIS – HIS YOU-KNOW AT ME!"

"I'm not," Harry said to Aunt Petunia as her long, thin nose appeared around the corner of the front door. "Look. You can see I'm not."

The nose sniffed. Without a word, Aunt Petunia whisked back into the house.

Next minute, more screams assaulted Harry's ears. Startled, he dropped the chamois leather, grabbed for his wand, and ran inside.

Had Voldemort found a way around the protections? Had he sent …._something_ ….to 4, Privet Drive?

He belted into the living room, his wand held high, then skidded to a halt, and burst out laughing.

Dudley and Aunt Petunia were clutching each other, Aunt Petunia's angular frame squashed in her son's whale-like embrace. Staring at them in bemusement was Mad-Eye Moody. His magical eye rolled in its socket and he acknowledged Harry's presence with a grunt. Even as Harry watched, three more cracks announced the Apparation of Lupin, Tonks and Bill Weasley.

"Hello, Harry!" Bill greeted him.

"Wotcher, Harry!"

"Harry…good to see you."

Harry shook Lupin's hand. He couldn't stop smiling. He had no idea why the four wizards had so suddenly turned up in his aunt's sitting room Maybe, maybe, they had come to fetch him…!

"Hi!" he said, grinning. "What's going on?"

"Come to collect you," Mad-Eye growled. "Dumbledore insisted."

Aunt Petunia and Dudley were still clutching each other, horror-stricken, in the corner. Dudley was doing his best to shrink into the wallpaper, which given his huge size was never going to be a success.

"The Burrow?" Harry said hopefully. His heart plummeted suddenly at the thought that they might be taking him to 12 Grimmauld Place… he didn't think he could bear that…not just yet, not without Sirius…

Mad-Eye, however, was nodding.

"That's right," he growled. "Tonks – help him get his things. Quickly now. No time to waste."

Harry was too bewildered to do more than follow after Tonks, who was making for the stairs. He was just about to demand to know what was going on when Uncle Vernon burst through the front door. He had been in the garage, wrapping up the latest instalment of Dudley's presents. The garage was the only space large enough to store them all under lock and key.

"What – heard – WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" he bawled when he saw Tonks in the hall. She glanced at him with mild curiosity, but did not pause.

"We're just collecting Harry," she said cheerfully over her shoulder. "Won't be long. Come on, Harry. We need to hurry."

Uncle Vernon tottered through into the living room, where Lupin, Bill and Mad-Eye still stood impatiently waiting, and Petunia and Dudley still huddled against the wall. Tonks cocked her head to listen to his angry roars for a moment.

"Bad temper, your uncle," she remarked. "He ought to watch it with that red face of his. He obviously has high blood pressure."

Harry winced as Tonks, in her haste, fell over the hall table, overbalancing a hideous china vase with pink roses on it.

"Oops," she said brightly when it shattered. "Do you really think they want this thing?"

It was a mystery to Harry why anybody would want it in their house, but he nodded.

"_Reparo_!" muttered Tonks. "There. Good as new."

In no time at all Tonks had set his things bobbing along towards his trunk. She still hadn't mastered the art of folding clothes, Harry noted, grabbing his dress robes and trying to put them away more neatly.

"There. All done. _Locomotor_ trunk! Quickly, Harry, back downstairs!"

Harry shut his mouth again on the questions hovering on his tongue, and they rejoined the others in the living room. Uncle Vernon's eyes bulged even more when he saw Tonks levitating the trunk in front of her with her wand.

"Out – house - " he managed to say in a strangled voice.

"Yeah. With pleasure. Bye then!" Harry smirked at the cowering Dudley as Lupin took his arm and dragged him to the door.

"Harry will see you in the summer," Lupin informed Aunt Petunia as they left. Her bony face fell, if possible, even further at the thought.

None of the Dursleys bothered to say goodbye to Harry as he was swept rapidly out of the house, but he was used to this. Tonks had set the trunk down, and Bill and Mad-Eye were hefting it along between them as fast as they could manage. Its progress was still uneven, largely because Mad-Eye kept going for his wand every time he heard any hint of a noise. He could be heard cursing non-magical modes of transportation under his breath.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, trotting beside them. "I mean, how are we going?"

"Floo," Mad-Eye grunted. "From Mrs Figg's."

"I thought that was dangerous." The previous summer, they had flown to London on their brooms in case the Floo Network was being watched.

"Don't worry, Harry, we've got it all under control," Lupin assured him, striding along at Harry's side. Harry noticed that he too kept his hand close to where his wand was concealed. "Podmore's going to shut the whole Network down for a couple of minutes, all except for Mrs Figg's and the Burrow. He'll give out that it was just a temporary glitch in service. Nobody else will be able to access it."

"Oh...Professor Lupin, why am I going now? I mean I'm glad and everything, but Dumbledore said I would have to stay here until the New Year…I thought this was supposed to be the safest place…"

"Something's come up. Change of plans," Lupin said briefly, knocking at Mrs Figg's door.

She let them in so quickly she must have been waiting in the hall. She smiled distractedly at Harry, hair falling in wisps out of her hairnet. She ushered them into her lounge, carpet slippers flopping. A number of cats watched them, ears flattening at being disturbed. Harry wrinkled his nose at the remembered smell. He opened his mouth to ask what was happening.

"Just in time," Mrs Figg said breathlessly. "It's nearly six – oh! And there's the signal!"

A flare of purple had blazed in the hearth.

"Quickly now, quickly now, goodbye Harry, take care….oh dear…"

Harry, his head still spinning rather, found himself thrust head-first into the fire as a handful of Floo powder was thrown at it. He sputtered, taken by surprise.

"The Burrow!" he gasped frantically.

There was the familiar _whoosh_, the lick of emerald flames, and a stomach-churning spinning that lasted far too long for Harry's comfort. Fireplaces whirled past.

Then Harry found himself catapulted forward out of the fire. He sprawled inelegantly onto the Weasleys' kitchen floor.

Just what, he thought in bewilderment, was going on?


	3. Chapter Two: The Burrow

Tension was running high in the circle of Death Eaters. A small number of them had been specially summoned to perform some secret task for the Dark Lord. It was many years now since they had been asked to undertake an organized 'hit' in this way. The very air seemed to shiver with excitement as they waited to be informed of their target.

They flung themselves forward as the Dark Lord himself approached.

"Master…." A low moan ran around the circle.

Lord Voldemort considered them. His Death Eaters, a number of them recently liberated from Azkaban by his own forces, were practically frothing at the mouth with anticipation. His mouth stretched into his lipless smile.

How thrilled, how ecstatic, they would be when he told them what he wanted them to do that evening.

To the world at large, this would be merely a skirmish: a teaser, a taster of what might follow. It would also, he hoped, distract attention from his real current purposes and activities, which those fools at the Ministry had no idea about. Nothing, nothing was more important to him at the present time than his quest for the Amulet. And with luck, this scheme would remove one particular obstacle to his aspirations in that direction on a permanent basis.

He had taken care to ensure it would seem like a relatively small-scale and isolated incident, one that could still simply be the work of renegade wizards from the last war and would not attract wide-scale panic. Just enough to keep the Ministry occupied... He wasn't ready yet for a full offensive against the wizarding world. His plans for that were still maturing.

Voldemort's long fingers stroked his chin. Nevertheless . . . he rather thought the events of the evening would make a certain point to those who might still be wavering in the decision as to where their true loyalties lay. He smiled again.

* * *

For a dizzy moment Harry lay slumped on the floor. Then firm hands grasped him under his arms and hauled. A moment later, Harry's trunk fell heavily on the spot which Harry had just vacated. On top of that, Tonks, Lupin, Mad-Eye and Bill all tumbled out. 

Harry sat up and straightened his glasses. They had already begun to steam up. A number of concoctions with appetising aromas were simmering on the stove. Mrs Weasley beamed down at him warmly.

"Harry, dear! How lovely to see you ! But goodness me, just look at you! You must go and change your clothes at once!"

Harry realized, with a start, that he was still soaked to the skin and freezing cold from washing Uncle Vernon's car on a wet winter's evening. It had all happened so fast…really, it was only a little while since he had been wearily wiping away at the car's windscreen….

"Right, Harry," Tonks said briskly, after exchanging greetings with Mrs Weasley. "Be seeing you!"

"No honestly, Molly, we really can't stay to dinner," Lupin added in response to Mrs Weasley's query. He exchanged furtive glances with Mad-Eye and Tonks. "We have –er – things to do."

They lifted their hands in farewell, then Disapparated. Harry blinked. That had been…well, sort of abrupt! He wondered what it was they had to get back to so urgently.

"All right there, Harry?" Bill asked him cheerfully, levitating the trunk in front of him. "Yes, OK, Mum, don't fuss, I'll take this upstairs now and Harry can get into some dry clothes."

Harry was sharing Ron's bedroom again. Ron was nowhere to be seen, but Harry looked around affectionately at the posters of Ron's favourite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons, which still plastered the walls in their vibrant orange robes; the tank on the window-sill, now empty, but once filled with frogspawn and subsequently a rather large frog; and the various comics scattered carelessly across the floor. Mrs Weasley had made no attempt to tidy up (probably experience had resigned her to the uselessness of such activity), but had simply moved an extra bed in for Harry's benefit.

It was so good to be back at the Burrow. It was homely in a way the spotless Dursley house could never hope to be. Harry was still consumed with curiosity about his hasty relocation, but nevertheless his dominant feeling was simply one of deep satisfaction to be here. The Weasley family had adopted him as their own several years ago, and it always awed Harry to be part of that close, squabbling network. It was so different from any family experience Harry had ever had. Even with Sirius…Harry firmly closed down that avenue of thought.

Warm and dry, Harry made his way downstairs. For the first time, as he passed through the hall, one photograph on the wall caught his notice. He paused and examined it.

The photo was of two young men and a woman, all waving merrily with broad smiles. The two men, hardly more than boys really, looked very pleased with life. The woman stood between them, and they each had an arm around her shoulders. From the resemblance between all three, Harry guessed it was a family photo – probably of brothers and a sister. He looked closer. The woman looked very familiar – surely, this was Mrs Weasley in fact? A younger, more carefree Mrs Weasley with the same warm smile? More strangely, Harry was also convinced he had seen the two young men who might be her brothers before as well. He frowned slightly..ah yes..Harry's eyes widened. He did recognize the two young men. He had last seen them waving out of a photo Mad-Eye Moody had shown him: one depicting the first Order of the Phoenix.

_"Gideon Prewett, it took five Death Eaters to kill him and his brother Fabian, they fought like heroes…budge along, budge along,"_ Mad-Eye's voice said in his memory.

Shaken, Harry continued slowly down the hall. He could hear a babble of voices coming from the kitchen, so he headed in that direction. As soon as he appeared in the doorway, he was mobbed by enthusiastic Weasleys, who all looked breathless, pink-cheeked and windswept.

"Harry, mate!" Ron slapped his shoulder. "Sorry I wasn't here when you arrived. We've all been Christmas shopping."

"Welcome back," said Fred, with a mock bow.

"Been a while," said George. Judging from their new, smart clothes, Harry guessed that Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes was still doing very well.

"Hello, Harry." Ginny smiled at him. Her eyes were very bright.

Harry grinned back at all of them and allowed himself to be pulled to the kitchen table. Percy and Mr Weasley, he gathered, were still at the Ministry. Charlie hadn't got back from London yet.

"So what's going on?" Fred asked.

"Yeah…" said Ron. "Bill, why is Harry here when we didn't know he was coming?"

Ron's older brother leaned back against the wall, one ankle hooked around the other. His fang earring gleamed in the soft lighting.

"No go, Ron," he drawled. "Dumbledore asked some of us to fetch Harry here immediately under close guard. We did. That' s all you need to know."

Harry felt annoyance rising within him. He had thought he and Dumbledore had moved beyond this. He was so fed up of always being kept in the dark.

Bill was watching him with a faintly amused look on his face.

"Don't hex me, Harry!" he said lightly. "Anyway, Dumbledore's coming round later. He said you might be a bit – er – irritated until you know the score."

"Albus is coming here?" Mrs Weasley put in, startled.

"Yeah. Says he has things to discuss." Bill glanced over at the younger Weasleys and Harry and looked meaningfully at his mother.

"Oh…!"

Harry could only hope that Dumbledore intended to discuss those things with him, too. Because he was absolutely determined he was going to get the whole story this time round.

He managed to push all that to one side, however. Here he was, engulfed in all the warmth and banter of a family Christmas for the first time he ever remembered. He let himself relax into it. The Burrow had already been decked out with all sorts of festive items. Harry wondered whether Fred and George had been involved in the decorating. If so, he reckoned they would all be in for some surprises on Christmas day…He smiled when he imagined Mrs Weasley's probable reaction to exploding fairy lights or ever-sozzled santas.

It was also the first time in days that he had sat down to a decent meal. It would be untrue to say the Dursleys starved him. However, he only got the barest minimum on which to survive. Even the leftovers were denied to him: Dudley wasn't allowed to eat them, on the instructions of the school nurse, which of course meant Harry couldn't either.

So Harry was tucking in with enjoyment. He didn't say very much, but listened happily to the loud and bickering conversations going on around him.

It was part way through the second course when he was suddenly hit by a sense of foreboding.

He had never felt anything quite like this before. His scar tingled. It didn't hurt, as it did in his most intense experiences of Voldemort. Nevertheless.. it felt…well, odd. Harry had a horrible feeling that something was going to happen.

"Harry! " began Fred, as he launched into some joke. "Did you hear the one about the grindylow who –"

Harry shook his head weakly, signalling that he didn't know the punchline. Unease wormed in his belly. Something was wrong.

It was around this point that shouting began to penetrate the din at the table. One by one, the Weasleys gradually fell silent. They turned towards the fire, mouths open in shock.

Kingsley Shacklebolt's bald black head was sitting in the fire, staring wildly around.

"MOLLY! MOLLY!" he was yelling. His voice, normally slow and deep, was filled with urgency and alarm.

Mrs Weasley hurried over. "What..? Is it Arthur? Percy..?" She sounded frightened.

"No time," Kingsley rapped out. "You have to get out, all of you. Don't ask, don't argue, just do it. GET OUT! Straight away.There's a traitor… DAMN – "

And Kingsley's head disappeared.

But Bill and Mrs Weasley were already moving.


	4. Chapter Three: The Dark Mark

Ron and Harry stumbled outside, closely followed by the other members of the Weasley family. It was dark, cold and raining; they hadn't even been allowed time to fetch their outer robes. Harry didn't know whether it was a side-effect of his scar, or the general atmosphere, but the sense of impending danger was overwhelming him. He felt very vulnerable out here in the depths of night. He became aware that he was shivering.

Mrs Weasley was conferring frantically with Bill, even as she continued to urge them all away from the house.

"What shall we do? Ron, Ginny and Harry can't Apparate away…oh dear heavens, Bill…." She was trying hard to keep her obvious panic under control.

"Fred and George," Bill said firmly. "Get out of here. Go to London.You know where. DON'T ARGUE…. Mum, you go with them." As he said this, he held out his hands. "_Accio_ broomsticks!"

"I'm staying with the children!" Mrs Weasley said fiercely, grabbing a broom out of Bill's hands.

"Mum!" Bill replied urgently. "Don't be silly! When did you last sit on a broom? Besides, someone has to go warn Dad and the others not to come here…"

Mrs Weasley made an infuriated noise, which Harry took to mean she had realized Bill was right. Harry found a broomstick being pushed into his hands. Next moment, Bill had tapped his wand on the back of his neck. A wet, slimy sensation slid between his shoulder blades. Harry recognized it. He had just been Disillusioned. Glancing at his torso, he saw that he had indeed changed colour and texture to match his surroundings.

"OK," Bill said tensely. "Listen. You need to be _silent_, OK? Got your wands? Right, 'point me' spell everyone…here's the compass heading, set yours to match…don't stop, not for anything. Keep on going until you get to the Monument of King Billy in Long Hampton. Avoid Muggles. Understand? We'll rendezvous there…Remember, fast as you can, and no noise! Mum, Fred, George, GO!" Bill then tapped his own neck with the Disillusionment charm, and faded out into the darkness.

Harry thrust into the air. He heard three cracks behind him, which he took to mean that Fred, George and Mrs Weasley had got away. Harry realized with sinking stomach that his broomstick was the airborne equivalent of a sick snail. Most brooms kept in the Burrow garden shed were cast-offs; they were old and slow and rather erratic. Only Ron had his new broom with him. Harry could see, faintly, the silhouettes of his companions alongside him. It was as if someone had cut shapes out of the landscape and night sky and then glued them back into position; you could still just about make out the joins if you knew what you were looking for. Harry focussed on the outlines of his friends.

As they circled to gain height, Harry looked down. He saw with panic that dark figures were Apparating onto the lawn below. He leaned further forward on his broom, but it continued to struggle to gain speed. He couldn't help glancing down again to see what was going on.

He could see wand sparks – green, and red, and purple. He could hear shouting on the night breeze.

"Can't find anyone!" it sounded as if someone had yelled. The voice was furious.

"….the house then!" he heard.

The wand sparks coalesced into flaming spheres. Laughter floated upwards towards him.

Faster, Harry urged his broomstick. Faster, faster…He was still circling, still too low to zoom off into the night…He had a bad feeling about this. He could sense chameleon-like shapes close by to him. One had darted some way ahead. Probably Ron, on his new Cleansweep… Ron was lucky, he was so attached to it he had bothered to bring it home with him… There had been no point taking his Firebolt to the Dursleys…The two figures closest to him were also flat on their broomsticks trying to coax the last bit of speed and elevation out of them.

Harry looked down again. The balls of glowing fire were being hurled at The Burrow. The house caught fire. Magically enhanced, the flames spread rapidly. Harry's heart ached even through the fear still gripping him.

The heat and smoke were blasting into the night. Harry could feel it. Then, the house itself exploded with a dreadful shattering roar. Harry gasped. Shockwaves were smashing out in all directions. Harry clutched hard at his broom, which was buffeted off course and zig-zagging crazily.

He heard, or thought he heard, a squeak from the piece of sky next to him. _Ginny_? he thought. Peering frantically through the smoke, the ash and the darkness, Harry was almost sure he saw a human shape which did not correspond with that of someone crouched safely on her broomstick. Had the blast unseated her? Harry's heart jumped painfully again. It looked as if Ginny's broom had been badly caught up in the back draft. Harry squinted desperately through the smoke and debris, and urged his broom towards the faint silhouette he could make out within it.

The shape plummeted wildly, in the pattern of a broomstick lurching out of control. _Ginny_…She would fall right into the hands of the Death Eaters. Harry did not care to think what the Death Eaters might do to a fifteen year old girl from the blood-traitor Weasley family…Harry redoubled his efforts to get his own broom into a higher gear, and plunged after her as fast as he could. He was sure it was Ginny, although she had valiantly obeyed her brother's instructions and made no sound other than that first involuntary little yelp.

Oh for his Firebolt…Harry called on every last ounce of his Quidditch skills and training, and pushed his sorry broom to the absolute limits of its capacity. He was drawing alongside..Yes, he was there, he was next to her, he could reach out his hands…

Ginny grasped him back with frantic fingers. Harry manoeuvred beneath her and managed to drag her onto his broomstick. He kept one arm firmly about her, as her seating was still precarious. He could feel her breath, fast and shallow against his neck, and he tightened his grip.

His old broomstick was struggling even more now with the double weight. Harry realized it could go no higher. Cursing, he urged it onwards. He didn't have the height to follow in the direction the others had taken. He headed for the woods, skimming over the tops of the trees. Now he had absolutely no idea where they were heading, or how they could rejoin the others. Or what might be after them...

Harry glanced back, terrified that he would see signs of pursuit. He didn't. What he did see was an enormous shape shooting into the night sky: something huge, glittering, and green. It was a skull, with a serpentine tongue protruding from its leering mouth. It was as though the sky had birthed a new and ominous constellation.

The Dark Mark. Everyone's worst fear….It was Arthur Weasley who had told him that...

* * *

The Death Eaters screamed in triumph as The Burrow burst apart. Its twisted, gabled shape collapsed in a furnace of unnatural colours.

"At last," one of them said reverently, eyes shining. "The Weasleys begin to realize what will be coming to them!"

"Pity they weren't here though," another commented sourly. "It's a shame we didn't get to play with them…"

"Going after the Weasleys is like trying to exterminate an ant-hill. They breed so fast…"

"Unless they had a secret hiding place in the house. In which case…BOOM!" A female Death Eater laughed manically.

The remaining Death Eater was silent. He looked up at the blazing remains. The fires cast little jumping orange lights into his black eyes. Curtains of greasy hair framed his face.

This Death Eater stared intently into the skies. Did he see, or did he not see, in the billowing smoke and flames…what might, perhaps, if one stared long enough, or hoped long enough, be Disillusioned figures in flight?

"MORSMORDRE!" one of his fellows cried out.

And there it was, a skull made of emerald stars, hovering above the wreck of the Weasley home.

You did not need any skill in Divination (useless subject!) to gather what the night skies were, on this occasion, trying to tell you about the future.


	5. Chapter Four: Lost Sheep

_A/N Huge thanks to reviewers. It really does encourage me to keep on updating as fast as I can! And Dr Huff Puff: Re your question: _"And that last death eater who didn't say anything was Snape, right? Now what the bloody hell was he doing there?" _That is exactly what Ron Weasley wants to know!_

Hermione wished she could think of a book which might help her now. The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix was in absolute uproar.

Earlier that evening, she had been delivered to 12, Grimmauld Place. As she was Muggle-born, and widely known to be close to Harry Potter, Dumbledore had apparently become worried she would be in danger. She wondered what had happened for him to come to this conclusion so suddenly. Lupin's appearance on her doorstep had been entirely unexpected.

Hermione had been sorry that she would miss Christmas with her family. Such minor woes were very far from her mind now, however.

Fred, George and Mrs Weasley had been pacing the house for some time. Then, Bill and Ron had at long last arrived. The two had waited, and waited, at the Muggle monument selected as their meeting point. Eventually, Bill had decided he must get Ron at least back to safety somewhere. They had taken a risk, and Floo'ed from a wizarding friend's house in Long Hampton.

Ron and Bill were white and shaken. Their skin was smeared with soot and ash, and their freckles stood out darkly even through the grime.

"Ginny and Harry," Mrs Weasley moaned. She could not stop crying. She kept trying to pull herself together, but tears welled down her cheeks from some inexhaustible source. "No, oh no. Ginny and Harry, Ginny and Harry…"

"Molly." Lupin shook her, very gently, by the shoulder. "Molly, please. .."

"Mum, I'm so sorry," Bill said, yet again, in anguished tones. "When the house blew up…it scattered us…They were Disillusioned, and it was dark, and there was so much smoke…"

"Bill. It isn't your fault," his mother said quietly, gulping down her sobs. "Of course it isn't your fault."

"Look," Lupin said. "We mustn't despair. The most likely thing is they simply got lost. We can hope they are still together. They're not stupid, they'll know we are looking for them."

"Yes," Mrs Weasley said in hopeless tones. "I'm sure they are fine…Oh! Who's that…"

It was Dumbledore. Somehow Hermione felt comforted by his very presence. He came into the kitchen and sat down, looking grave.

"Albus," Lupin asked urgently. "How could this happen?"

Dumbledore ran a hand through his beard.

"I fear," he said heavily, "that we have been betrayed. On two counts, no less. Nobody should have known that Harry was with the Weasleys.. and nobody should have known how to penetrate the magical defences set about The Burrow without even tripping the alarms."

"So, Professor," Hermione said in a small voice. "Does that mean it was Harry they were after?"

Dumbledore's hand stilled. "We don't know for sure. The Weasley family would always be a prime target, if Voldemort wished to start making examples…"

The expression on Mrs Weasley's face prompted him to change the subject.

Snape's arrival startled nearly everyone. Hermione examined him thoughtfully. He too was covered in soot and grime. He glowered at the younger Weasleys and Hermione, and quite obviously wished Dumbledore would evict them from the room. Dumbledore, however, indicated that they should remain.

"Well?" Snape asked, harshly. His eyes darted around the kitchen, and took in those both present and absent.

"Severus," Lupin said. "We got your warning just in time. It was by sheer chance, you know. Kingsley's rota had been changed, didn't you remember? Luckily, he went back to fetch something…He got your message, and managed to alert Mrs Weasley. Everyone got out of the house, but Harry and Ginny haven't made it back yet. Have you heard …..?"

Ron had been watching this conversation from the sidelines. Hermione kept glancing at him. She had a feeling he was about to boil over with some emotion. She was not wrong.

"You bastard!" Ron burst out suddenly. He had been staring at the soot and grime on Snape's sallow features. "You were there, weren't you? You helped set our house on fire… You were there! One of _them_, prancing around in masks…"

"Yes," said Snape after a shocked pause. His voice was without expression. "I was there."

"It is true," Dumbledore put in quickly. "Professor Snape was there. It is also thanks to him that _you_ were not…It was he who managed to get a warning to us."

"Yeah," Ron continued angrily. "A warning given to someone who wasn't even supposed to be on duty – a fact which Snape conveniently_ forgot_. Real helpful. Great ploy. Went wrong though, didn't it, because we did get the warning after all…"

Snape was rigid with anger. Dumbledore shook his head at him.

"Ron, you are upset. Please believe that Professor Snape did everything he could to ensure the events of this evening would not have any truly tragic consequences. And Severus, _have_ you heard anything?"

Snape shook his head. "I can tell you that Potter and Miss Weasley were not found at the house. To the…disappointment…of my colleagues, nobody was there at all."

Some of the tension in the room dissipated. Dumbledore, however, was still reading Snape's face.

"What else, Severus?" he asked quietly.

"The Dark Lord," Snape continued flatly. "knows that Potter is most vulnerable when not at Hogwarts. He knows he is no longer with his relatives. He has released the trackers."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. She did not know exactly what Snape was referring to, but clearly Voldemort was trying to find Harry. And equally clearly, from the horrified expressions on the faces of Order members around her, the method he was using to do so was a cause for alarm.

"And it would have to be now, of all times," Dumbledore breathed, "when Harry and Ginny are lost on their own, somewhere in the night…We must find them!"

* * *

It was so dark. Harry had forgotten just how very black nights were once away from Muggle lighting. His arms ached, and he was both wet and freezing cold. It had at least stopped raining.

He could hear no sounds of pursuit.

"Ginny," he whispered. "I'm going to try and set us down somewhere."

He could feel her nod against his chest. If only he could see! He managed to bring the broom down through the trees without too much damage, although both he and Ginny would have many cuts and bruises from twigs and branches whipping against them during their descent.

They huddled underneath a tree, miserable. It was odd not to be able see each other. He supposed their present circumstances were sufficiently severe that the Decree Against Underage Magic could be flouted, but he had no idea how to remove a Disillusionment charm.

Still -

"Ginny," he said urgently. "I have an idea. If we use magic, they'll find us. They always do, if you're underage..they send owls straight away…"

He could sense that Ginny, next to him, had shaken her head.

"That's a good idea, Harry," she said slowly, "except for one thing. Kingsley said there was a traitor. How do we know the traitor isn't at the Ministry? If the wrong people find us – "

The thought sent shudders through both of them. The idea of a traitor to the Order of the Phoenix was also deeply disturbing. Inevitably, Harry's mind flicked to Snape. He had never trusted him.

"What else, then?" Harry asked helplessly. "This broom is a useless pile of firewood waiting to happen – sorry, Ginny."

"I'll have you know," Ginny responded, "that you hold in your hand nearly the sum total of Weasley worldly wealth."

Harry's chest clenched. He knew how poor the Weasleys were. And now they had lost their house as well.

"There's the Knight Bus," he said doubtfully.

"Hmm." Ginny was equally doubtful. "Do you have any money on you? I don't. And it might be a bit hard to catch, since we're more or less invisible."

"All right then," Harry snapped in exasperation. "what do _you_ suggest?"

Ginny sighed. "Well, we could try to find someone with a Floo. If we knew where we were, or could see where we were going. Or…Harry, did you hear something?"

Harry turned his head. He could hear nothing.

"Just some night animal," he suggested. "Or the breeze through the trees."

"Mmm…"

Harry began to speak and suddenly found that Ginny had clapped her hand over his mouth. His entire skin tried to listen. Ginny was right. He too could hear small sounds.

Purposeful sounds. As if something was heading stealthily in their direction.

The hair on the back of his neck and arms stood up. He swallowed. Ginny was tense beside him, and her breathing was once more shallow and fast.

A tiny noise escaped her and she prodded Harry violently. He turned.

Eyes. Eyes in the darkness. There were a number of them, at about the height of Harry's waist. They were all red. They glowed, feral and menacing.

The eyes had another thing in common. They were all fastened on Harry and Ginny.

And they were moving, slowly and steadily, towards them.


	6. Chapter Five: The Hounds of Hell

_A/N Thanks again to reviewers. Sorry for slower update, had visitors._

_Well they follow your advice and get on the broom. But oh...poor Ginny!_

The red-eyed creatures grew closer. They moved with stealthy caution. Their stares did not waver from Harry and Ginny's horrified forms.

Harry's brain finally unfroze. _Broom_, he thought. He pulled Ginny onto the broomstick and thrust upwards. It wobbled slowly off the ground. Harry cursed it. Damn, damn, damn….

Worse: the movement stirred the creatures into action. The Disillusionment charm clearly had no effect on them. Or, possibly, they hunted by smell. However that might be, they certainly realized that Harry and Ginny were attempting to make their escape. They flung themselves forward. As the broomstick sluggishly rose through the trees, one of the beasts surged forward in a mighty leap and clamped its jaws around one of Ginny's dangling legs.

She yelled in pain. The weight of the creature hanging from Ginny's leg bore the broomstick back down to earth. Harry and Ginny toppled onto the loamy ground of the forest. The massive teeth of another beast closed around the broom handle. Harry distinctly heard it snap.

The red eyes were all around them now. They made no further move to attack, but merely circled them.

Damn………Harry considered and rejected all possible spells he might use against them. There were just too many of them, and they could spring too quickly. By the time he had immobilized one, or even two, another could be ripping their heads off.

"Why aren't they attacking?" Ginny demanded raggedly, clutching her leg in her hands in an attempt to stem the bleeding.

"They're keeping us here," Harry said slowly. "They're keeping us here until someone else can get here…"

Unfortunately, he had a good idea who that someone might be, or at least who they probably worked for. He chose not to dwell on that reflection. "How's the leg?"

"Hurts." Ginny's voice betrayed her pain. "It's OK, though, don't worry, I'll be fine..."

"Let me see."

Harry brushed the wound gently. Ginny's breath sucked in. It was a serious injury. Harry's hand came away wet with blood; he could smell its metallic tang. She would not be able to move very easily, and certainly not fast.

Not, from the look of it, that they were going to get the opportunity to move anywhere.

The creatures appeared to have settled in for a wait. They were sitting all around them. They made no further move to harm them, but continued to stare at them.

"You know, Harry," Ginny gasped out through gritted teeth. "I think at this point we might want to risk some magic. I mean at least then there is a chance the right people will get to know where we are…"

She was right, of course. Harry tried to think of a spell that would not alarm the creatures into precipitate action. He quite liked his legs just where they were.

Light, he thought. Light would be good. "_Lumos Major_," he murmured.

Of course, the spell meant they could now see the beasts clearly in the blue-white light streaming from Harry's wand. Harry wondered whether this was in fact a good thing.

They were hounds, huge, and coal-black. They were gaunt and savage, and the red eyes hungered for them above enormous, slavering jaws. Harry had never seen their like. Beside him, Ginny swallowed and caught her breath. She pressed rather more closely against Harry's side.

"I'm sorry," she whispered now. "It's my fault we're here. I'm sorry…and..thanks, Harry. Thanks for catching me."

"It isn't your fault," Harry told her, meaning it. "You were just unlucky. And, hey, of course I was going to try and catch you. Do you really think I was going to let my best friend's little sister fall into an exploding house and a nest of Death Eaters?"

Ginny did not reply, with the careful silence of someone not saying something. Harry, misreading the reason for her lack of response, hurried on.

"You know, Ginny, I should be apologizing to you. I think it's me they're after," he said to her.

It was an awful thought, but it couldn't be coincidence that the Weasleys had been attacked just after he had arrived. A depth of pain and guilt accompanied this realization. Harry packed it carefully away; he would agonize about it later. If there was a 'later', of course. "Try not to worry, Ginny, maybe they won't be interested in you at all…"

He was lying, naturally. His memory played back, again, that well-worn image. Cedric in the graveyard. Voldemort's thin, high voice. _"Kill the spare_." The green flash, and the blank look of surprise on Cedric's young, dead face. An image of Ginny's face, flat and staring, floated across his mind. It was difficult to imagine Ginny stilled in that way. She was one of the most animated people Harry knew; even her hair seemed to crackle with vitality.

Damn, damn, damn….

* * *

Arthur Weasley's head appeared in the kitchen fire at 12, Grimmauld Place with the customary popping noise. He looked harrowed. All those in the kitchen clustered forward. Was there news? 

"We've got a fix," he told them tersely. "They've used some magic. The idiots in the Underage Magic division have already dispatched the owl. We need a team to go pick them up…"

* * *

It made Harry want to laugh hysterically. In the light of his illumination spell, they could see the owl hovering uncertainly above their heads. It clearly did not want to come lower and get within reach of those giant jaws encircling Harry and Ginny. Eventually, it made up its mind to perch on a branch, and managed to detach the letter from its own leg. The envelope floated down. Harry opened it. 

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_It has come to our attention that you performed a Major Illumination charm at approximately seventeen minutes past nine this evening._

_It is acknowledged that this breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery did not take place in a Muggle-inhabited area, nor in the presence of Muggles. This mitigates the severity of the offence. However, our records show that this is not your first violation of the rules regarding proper use of magic. We will therefore be proceeding with this case, and you are required to attend a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic at __10am__ on the fourth of January._

_Wishing you a merry Happy Christmas and happy New Year!_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Mafalda Hopkirk_

_Improper Use of Magic Office_

_Ministry of Magic_

"Right," Harry muttered. "Now I'm worried!"

He tore the letter into pieces and shoved it in a pocket. But hopefully, it had at least alerted their friends as to their whereabouts. There were a number of members of the Order working at the Ministry, who would always be alert to any eventuality involving Harry Potter or Ginny Weasley - not to mention Percy and Mr Weasley. Assistance should soon be on its way. Harry only hoped the help arrived before…anything else.

He and Ginny huddled together. Ginny was shaking badly, and Harry suspected she was suffering from shock as a result of her leg injury. She was certainly very cold, and they were both still wet through from the earlier rain. He kept his arm around her shoulders; the flower scent of her hair contrasted with the fetid odour wafting to them on the breeze.

They were cramped, wet, scared and cold. They knew the hounds must be pinning them down like this for a reason. Their fear increased as they waited to find out just what that reason might be, and who or what might next arrive.

When the masters of the hounds did turn up, ghosting through the trees on silent feet, both Harry and Ginny were astonished. These were not, as far as they knew, creatures of Voldemort. They had never seen the beings before, but they had seen pictures of them. They had studied them in their Defence Against the Dark Arts classes.

Ginny was rigid in Harry's arms and they both stared at the new arrivals with sagging mouths.

Vampires.

* * *

"I will need to go with the team," Snape stated. 

"It won't be safe," Lupin pointed out. "If Voldemort's agents are about, they might recognize you. It won't help you if Voldemort realizes you've gone on another rescue mission to fetch Harry."

"The possible nature of the threat is such that you may well need me. Believe me, I have no actual desire to put my neck on the line for Potter."

"Stop _arguing_," Mrs Weasley cut in, frustrated. "Just _go_."

Snape folded his arms and watched sardonically. The youngest Weasley brat was obviously dying to protest his inclusion in the rescue team. He managed not to strangle Potter on a daily basis during term-time at Hogwarts. What made Weasley think he would massacre the boy under the very nose of Albus Dumbledore? Of course, failure to think was one of Weasley's besetting sins. He doubted he was actually capable of it.

Miss Granger, on the other hand, had a very thoughtful expression on her face. Doubtless, she was trying to figure out why Snape's presence would be so necessary. Snape admitted to some slight uneasiness. Working it out was not beyond Miss Granger's abilities, if certain fragments of information came her way. She was actually gifted with something approaching real intelligence. He supposed the world did owe her some sort of compensation for being born an insufferable know-it-all. Not to mention the teeth.

However, the werewolf, damn him, had been right to note the dangers of Snape being recognized. The Dark Lord was already growing mistrustful of him. Snape drew the hood of his robes forward to obscure his features as much as possible. It really would be better if he were not obliged to go along. Aside from anything else, he was tired. The Death Eater mission against the Weasley house, a rapid debriefing to the Dark Lord afterwards (who had sent him on his way suspiciously quickly), and now this…

Snape sighed. It was going to be a long night. With the prospect of Potter's company at the end of it, just to round the whole thing off with joy.

As there was little time to gather reinforcements, it was in the end just Lupin, Bill, Dumbledore and Snape who Apparated to the co-ordinates provided by Arthur Weasley. They were also worried about involving anyone else in case it would inadvertently alert the traitor.

They materialized in the depths of a forest. They had chosen to arrive a small distance away from the place they believed Harry and Ginny to be. This would enable them to assess the situation, in case they would be confronted with more than just Harry and Ginny.

An arc of light shone through the trees. Silently approaching, the members of the rescue team saw that the light was surrounded by hell hounds, glaring menacingly at an apparently empty space in the centre of a circle. Luckily the team members were upwind of the creatures, who were in any event focused intently on their allotted task.

The masters of hounds had also, it seemed, arrived. There were three of them, and they were standing looking down with folded arms. The light caught on their faces.

Snape suppressed a hiss. They had been right.

Vampires.


	7. Chapter Six: The Vampyr

The vampires radiated a dangerous beauty. They were tall, and moved with sleek grace. They were the undead: and Harry, looking at them, had no doubt they were deadly.

Harry raised his wand in a reflex defence mechanism. Almost immediately one of the hounds bounded forward and grabbed for it with its teeth. It missed, but only because Harry dropped the wand. He shrank back, terrified, with the hot stinking breath of the beast in his face. It did not attack, however. It crouched at his feet and growled warningly.

Dropping the wand extinguished the light. Blinded by the sudden shift in light levels, Harry could make out little other than the red eyes of the hounds.

"Who are you?" he cried out to the three vampires, which he could no longer see but knew were there. "What do you want?"

One of them spoke. Its voice was smoother than water.

"We are the Vampyr, child. I should have thought that was obvious."

"What do you want with us?" Harry could feel Ginny next to him, coiled as though about to spring.

"We have been asked to collect you. It is a small token of our new alliance."

New alliance? Harry felt chilled.

"Do not resist us, and we will not hurt you. We are simply here to escort you to your new master."

New master? If he had felt chilled before, Harry could now feel his blood flowing icy in his veins.

At that moment a new voice cut in from away in the trees. It was a man's voice, speaking a language he did not understand. Impossibly, the timbre of the voice sounded rather like Snape's. He seemed to be arguing with the creatures. Harry was bewildered. But the vampires were distracted. If it weren't for those damned hounds they could have just quietly slipped away…but the attention of the dogs had not slipped. They continued to gaze at them raptly.

There was a flash of green light then, and the man who reminded Harry of Snape yelled something out. Two of the vampires shrieked in unison, and flung themselves in his direction. It looked as though battle was being joined.

The hounds shifted uncertainly, as though unsure whether to guard the prisoners or assist their masters. And one of the vampires had clearly decided that collecting their prey was the priority anyway, for Harry, in the flashes of wand light, could see him gliding towards himself and Ginny with astonishing speed.

Then there was another voice. _Lupin_? Harry thought in amazement. What was _Lupin_ doing here?

"PATRONUS, HARRY! You can use patronus to defend yourself!"

But he couldn't, he couldn't, because he had dropped his wand. Harry groped about, panicking, as the vampire's carved white face loomed above him. He glanced up, and saw it open its mouth in a fang-toothed smile.

Then, to Harry's further astonishment, another voice rang out.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

_Ginny_? He supposed he shouldn't have been so surprised, since he had taught her that charm himself in the illegal Defence Association classes they had run the previous year. However, he couldn't remember Ginny producing a fully-fledged patronus: let alone a corporeal one.

She must have been practising. Harry watched with sagging jaw as an enormous silver wildcat leaped through the air. Its magical claws extended towards the vampire's face, which reeled backwards with a furious cry. The hounds were also retreating, yelping and howling as though in pain as the silver light of Ginny's patronus shimmied through the pack.

Harry was impressed. Now he thought about it, he did seem to remember Fred and George commenting with respect on the power of Ginny's magic. And that was some cool patronus...

"C'mon." Ginny clutched his arm, hard, and tried him to yank him to his feet. As he scrabbled to get up, Harry's hand fell with relief on his fallen wand. He grabbed it.

The hounds were still in disarray. Ginny began to drag him through the whimpering pack and in the direction from which they had heard Lupin's voice. Harry slung her arm around his shoulder to support her and strode forward; Ginny was limping badly.

Vampires, Harry recalled, were not wizards, and were resistant to most forms of magic. However, magic that did work against them seared them horribly; it seemed to be antagonistic to their very flesh. What vampires had in their favour was immense strength, and amazing resilience to attack. They were also hunters by nature, with unmatched powers to track and bring down their prey.

There was a magic battle going on here. Lights of many colours were streaming out of wands. Harry could make out Bill and Dumbledore. He knew Lupin was there somewhere. The night was punctuated by cracks, bangs and muttered oaths. There was also a hooded man; Harry guessed this was the one who sounded like Snape and had tried to speak to the vampires in their own language.

The vampires, with their unnatural speed, were dodging most of the hexes aimed at them. Even those that hit seemed to have very little effect. One of them shouted something out. It seemed to be a call to the hounds, for they began to slink towards Harry and Ginny again. In the circumstances, Harry lost confidence that all the dogs would do this time was try to hold them in place. They might decide that injured prey was easier to handle and transport….

Harry assessed the trees around them. "Let's climb," he said to Ginny.

She had a difficult time of it with her hurt leg, but with Harry's help she managed. They contrived to get some way into the branches, and felt at least a little more secure out of the way of the hounds' teeth.

The battle was still fiercely underway. Then the hooded man cried out something else. Harry had never seen anything like it. What magic was this? The air was rent with a lilac streak as if of lightning. Harry's skin shivered and prickled in the ambience of an alien magic. The vampires screamed, a high and eldritch sound which made Harry wince. Then, he saw thankfully, they seemed to be retreating. They whistled for the hounds, which slank after them, casting regretful looks behind them at Harry and Ginny stuck in their tree.

There was near silence for a moment, broken by pants of exertion as the fighting force recovered.

"Harry? Ginny?" Dumbledore's wand was streaming light as he peered around through the trees.

"We're here!" Harry called.

He tried to climb down out of the tree, but found that his limbs seemed to have turned to liquid at some point. He slipped clumsily from his branch, and found what would have been a crashing fall broken by a spell cast by Dumbledore. He blinked around. The hood had fallen back from the fourth wizards's face. Harry's eyes narrowed. It was, indeed, Snape.

"I can't climb down, Professor," Ginny said, with admirable calm. "I hurt my leg."

But Bill was already there.

"Ginny," he was muttering. "Oh Merlin, Ginny. I'm so glad you're safe, I was terrified.."

Bill helped Ginny down and held her in his arms. He undid the Disillusion Charm on both Harry and Ginny. They looked at each other. Their faces were streaked with soot, grime and blood. They were still soaked to the skin, and their hair hung in rats' tails. They both began to laugh.

"Hysterical," Harry heard Lupin muttering to Bill. "Give them some chocolate and let's get them home."

Harry ate the chocolate greedily. It did help. The after-effects of shock were already hitting him. He couldn't wait to go.

Oh. Yes. The Burrow was no more. He would be going to 12 Grimmauld Place. His heart plummeted.

"OK, Harry, you come with me; Ginny, you go with Bill."

"Er, Professor Lupin, how are we travelling?"

"Brooms. It will have to be. We brought ours with us so we could get you back."

Lupin pulled a miniaturized broom out of a pocket in his robes and cast an Engorgement Charm. "Off we go, Harry. We need to get you back quickly. You don't look well. And Ginny's leg obviously needs attention."

Bill had gathered Ginny onto his broom – his own broom, which he had collected from Headquarters, and was much swifter and more reliable than the cast-offs formerly kept in his childhood home's garden shed. He Disillusioned them again.

Dumbledore and Snape had also pulled out their own brooms. They pushed off, likewise Disillusioned, and rose into the night.

Harry had noticed that they all had their wands out as though expecting trouble. They flew high and fast. He recalled, with a flare of dismay, that certain kinds of vampire were able to fly. He hoped that whatever strange magic Snape had performed would convince them to stay away. He became exceedingly cold, and was grateful for Lupin's warm body behind him.

His mind tried to come to terms with all that happened this evening. He had a bad feeling about all this. Something was very wrong, he was sure.

Firstly, he had been removed from the Dursleys with no warning, and considerably earlier than planned. Dumbledore had always maintained that he was safe there. What had changed?

Secondly, the attack on the Burrow had taken place shortly after he had arrived. Harry felt grief rip through him again. He couldn't imagine how he was going to face the Weasleys after this. He recalled Mrs Weasley's unfailing kindness, and wondered how he would ever get over the guilt. And what on earth would Ron say?

Thirdly, the vampires and their creatures had tracked them down. On whose orders? Harry had always heard that the vampires stayed out of human affairs. What if the vampires were entering into partnership with Voldemort…an alliance between Voldemort and the the undead, who were resistant to most forms of magic and had uncanny powers of their own, would be just what the Order of the Phoenix needed.

Fourthly, there had been Snape. He had been speaking to the vampires, presumably in their own language: it certainly wasn't any speech that Harry had ever heard. The vampires had entered into conversation with him. And then he had known some kind of weird magic that was able to banish them. Most odd….he needed to talk to Hermione…

And finally, there was a traitor. Harry felt misery settle sludgily in the pit of his stomach. A traitor to the Order of the Phoenix.

That meant it could very well be someone he knew. Quite possibly someone he liked. Trusted.

Harry was still thinking about the traitor when Lupin went into his downward spiral. Harry was so frozen by this time that he could barely move. Lupin had to practically carry him into the house.

Mrs Weasley swooped down on him and Ginny immediately, in a whirl of hugs, warm blankets and hot drinks. Harry had no time to assimilate that he was here, in Sirius' old house, when Sirius was dead. Too many people were fussing over him. Ginny was whisked off to St Mungo's: her leg was too bad for any but a trained healer to deal with. Ron and Hermione were pelting him with questions.

They would have to wait.

Harry, warm, dry, and as far as he could tell safe, was sliding down and down into an exhausted slumber.

The last thing he recalled was muttering to Dumbledore:

"Needtoaskyousomequestions…"

And then he slept.


	8. Chapter Seven: Explanations

_As ever, thanks to reviewers._

_A lull in the storm, during which some answers are provided, but not all. And what, in the end, will be more dangerous? The secrets, or Harry's determination to find them out..._

When Harry finally fell sleepily out of bed the next morning, most adults staying in the house had already been obliged to go out on business. Mrs Weasley remained home in order to keep an eye on them all after their upsetting experiences. Harry knew better than to suppose she might be persuaded to let slip any useful or interesting information whatsoever, and glumly resigned himself to biding his time. He was determined, however, to get the full story out of _somebody_.

This house depressed Harry. Everywhere he looked, he expected to see Sirius' dark hair swinging, and hear him cursing his mother's portrait. This house: which, thanks to Sirius, now belonged to him. He hated it. But at least he _had _a house..

Ron and Hermione picked over the details of Harry and Ginny's adventures with suitable amounts of awe and horror. To Harry's relief, the Weasleys were at present just too thankful Harry and Ginny had been restored to them unscathed to have much energy for recriminations about the loss of their home. Harry was sure that would come, though. Then they would begin to hate him… He knew how much Ron, in particular, resented being poor…

"A _patronus_?" Ron was exclaiming with incredulity, as Fred slapped a mug of tea on the table in front of him. "Ginny produced a real, proper _patronus?_"

Ron looked put out. His long nose quivered. Watching him, it dawned on Harry that in all their Defence Association lessons he had never seen Ron's wand spout more than silvery vapour.

"Yeah," Harry said, wary of Ron's reaction. "A wildcat…"

"How can she _do_ that?" Ron was clearly aggrieved. "I mean, she's younger than me, and she's…"

"What?" Hermione said sharply, raising an eyebrow. "Just a girl?"

"No, of course not! But she's my little sister, that's all…"

George sighed. "Don't tell me, Ron, that you haven't realized?"

"How many older brothers does Ginny have?" Fred asked kindly.

Ron looked blank and stared from one identical brother to another.

"Six, you morons!" Ron said tetchily, completely bewildered. "You can count!"

"When did the Weasleys last produce a daughter?"

"Way back when, centuries ago…I dunno…what is all this?"

"You see," Fred explained, "Ginny, if you think about it, is the seventh child of a seventh child. On top of that, she is the only girl Weasley in seven generations."

"So?"

"So, my dear Ron, when Ginny comes into her full powers, we should probably all hope she still likes us…Mum and Dad are hoping none of us will realize, they want her to grow up in her own way…But we overheard them talking about it one evening."

Ron scowled. Harry recalled how Ron had always felt overshadowed by his five elder brothers. Not to mention his best friend, Harry. Now it seemed that his baby sister was going to turn into some kind of super-witch…Harry felt a flare of something oddly like pride, for some reason. Then he decided it was time to change the subject.

"Er, yeah, well. Those vampires then. What do you reckon about that? And what have they got to do with _Snape_?"

"Well, you said Snape was talking to them in their own language. That's very interesting, because you can't learn Vampyr tongue," Hermione asserted. "It's like parseltongue…It's innate."

"So - what?" Ron jumped in his chair. "Do you reckon Snape is a _vampire_? He's always looked like a bat, and he spends his whole time prowling around the dungeons at night. And he's creepy enough, that's for sure!"

Hermione sighed. "Ron, didn't you listen when Harry described the vampires, even if you never paid any attention in class when Lupin told us about them? Vampires are beautiful, graceful and uncannily swift. Does that sound like Professor Snape to you?"

Ron sniggered. "OK, so he's a greasy old git, which means he can't be a vampire… Right…."

"And anyway," Hermione added, "we've seen him in full daylight lots of time. No. He's not a vampire. But…" She chewed her lip thoughtfully. They all looked inquiringly at her, but she would only shake her head.

Everybody's head jolted round as they heard the door slamming. _Dumbledore?_ Harry thought, hopefully.

But, no: it was Ginny. Bill had fetched her from St Mungo's, and dropped her off before returning to work.

"Ginny!" Fred and George pounced on her, nearly knocking her over in their enthusiasm. "Mum! MUM! Ginny's home…"

Mrs Weasley raced downstairs and enfolded Ginny in her arms.

"Mum, I'm fine," Ginny said firmly. "Let me go. See, I just have to wear this little bandage for a day or two…it's got some kind of cream to treat the poison…"

"_Poison?_" shrieked Mrs Weasley.

"Mum, I'm fine!"

Ginny grinned. Harry was lounging in the most comfortable chair in the kitchen; he leaped up, and insisted that Ginny have it. She laughed at him, and arranged herself carefully within its squashy embrace.

"That's better," she sighed. "I hate St Mungo's. Too many sick people!"

She was rather paler than normal, and judging from the way she moved, her leg was still painful: but basically she looked all right. Harry felt a great surge of relief wash over him. If the Weasleys had lost their youngest child and only daughter, as well as their house...

He would have loved to give the Weasleys a mountain of gold. Harry had piles of the stuff now. Sirius had inherited the Black family fortune; he had been the last surviving male Black, and most of the family assets were tied up in such a way that his mother had been unable to bequeath all this wealth away from him (much to her disgust). Sirius, as the last Black, had been free to dispose of the fortune as he wished, and he had left the whole lot to Harry. Harry didn't want Sirius' money, and he certainly didn't want 12, Grimmauld Place. But he knew very well that the Weasleys were too proud to consider taking any help from him.

He did try. But Mrs Weasley merely flicked her duster faster and faster, refusing even to turn around and look at Harry.

"It's quite all right, dear," she said, her voice higher and more rapid than normal. "We'll manage, don't you worry."

But Harry did worry. It was a good thing the Weasleys spent so much time at the Order Headquarters, and had many of their personal belongings stored there. Or they would have been next door to destitute.

There was very little for them to do, confined to Headquarters. The house had already been thoroughly decontaminated. Mrs Weasley refused point blank to let them go outside. She had a blazing row with Fred and George on this issue: which she lost, because they were of age, and insisted they needed to go and do some work at their shop. But Hermione, Harry, Ron and Ginny were simply stuck there, playing desultory games of Exploding Snap. Harry was in a fever of impatience by the time Dumbledore finally deigned to show up. He hopped up and down while the usual pleasantries were exchanged, and tea was poured, and cakes produced. Finally, Dumbledore sighed, as if making a decision.

"Well, Molly," he said heavily. "I think it is time we allowed our young friends here to know what has been happening."

Mrs Weasley looked as if she would protest. Dumbledore raised a hand, and looked at her kindly over his half-moon glasses. "I know, Molly. I know. You think they are too young, that the truth would disturb them. Well: it may. But we cannot protect them from what is going on, Molly. As the events of last night showed, they are just as liable to be caught up in Voldemort's plots as any of the rest of us. They deserve to know the truth…"

Dumbledore had everybody's rapt attention. Ginny, Hermione, Ron, Harry: each sat tensely, leaning forward slightly in their seats.

Dumbledore shifted. "I think you are all aware," he said finally, after a long, thoughtful silence, "that one of the dearest desires of Voldemort's heart is to possess true immortality…You, Ginny, suffered greatly from one of his schemes to restore himself to life during your first year… There are few genuinely immortal beings, and no known way for humans to harness that immortality for themselves…"

"Is this where vampires come in? Vampires are immortal, aren't they?" Hermione asked excitedly as Dumbledore paused.

He nodded at her, and smiled. "Yes, Hermione, that is right. It is our belief that Voldemort is teaming up with vampires. But it isn't only their aid in the war that he wants. He is seeking to know the secret of Vampyr immortality, and get it for himself."

"But, Professor," Hermione said quickly. "Isn't there a problem there? I mean, vampires can't be wizards…even if a wizard becomes a vampire, they lose their magic…surely Voldemort isn't willing to stop being a wizard to get immortal life?"

Dumbledore smiled at her again. "I always knew you would be one of the brightest students to come through Hogwarts, Hermione. Yes. You are right. That is the crux of Voldemort's dilemma. It seems that one of the prices vampires pay for their special abilities and immortal life is the loss of any ability to use magic of their own, beyond certain in-built magics such as flying and supernatural resilience…"

Harry was frowning. "OK, so Voldemort is messing about with vampires in the hope it'll help him to become immortal. How does that affect us? I mean, why did I have to leave the Dursleys so suddenly…why does it change things if vampires come into the picture?"

Dumbledore paused again. The inhabitants of the kitchen remained hooked on his every word.

"You know, Harry, that the secret of your safety while you reside with your relatives lies in blood magic…"

Harry nodded. He did know this. His mother had died to protect him, and this had invoked an ancient magic which meant Harry was safe as long he lived with his mother's blood relatives. Most unfortunately, this had meant Harry spending all of his summer holidays with the Dursleys. He knew his mother could not help her relatives. But still.

"Well, vampires are not affected by that particular kind of magic. Their own line is rooted in a blood magic even deeper and more ancient than the one which protects you. Once Voldemort had allied himself with the vampires, they could come at you at the Dursleys any time they wished. That is why we removed you as soon as we had word Voldemort was in league with vampires."

Harry nodded slowly. That made sense, he supposed. And they had taken him secretly, so nobody was supposed to know where he was, and left him with a wizarding family whose home was guarded by strong magical wards.

Which plan had failed: because of a traitor. A traitor, to the Order of the Phoenix, who had let Voldemort know Harry's location….

"OK," Harry said. His voice had become very hoarse. He saw in his mind's eye The Burrow, a blasted wreck blazing with many colours. He relived the moment when Ginny had plunged downwards, down towards the exploding house and the waiting Death Eaters. "So, OK. And then they come after me at The Burrow…I just…there's more to this, isn't there? You haven't told us everything yet?"

Dumbledore regarded Harry gravely. Harry stared back, mouth set. He wanted to know. Too many secrets had been kept from him in the past.

"That brings us back to Hermione's point," Dumbledore went on. "What Voldemort wants with vampires apart from their help in kidnapping Harry. It is my belief that Voldemort thinks he has found a way to combine immortality with magical powers."

"How?" Harry and Hermione asked together amidst a general shocked murmuring.

"It is rumoured that a certain amulet exists in the world… I know it under the name of the Soul Casket. Voldemort appears to be calling it the Amulet of Anima. This amulet can act as a repository of the soul. It is the soul from which magic comes, you know. So if Voldemort acquired a Vampyr body, he could retain his soul and his magic in the amulet… Then he would be bodily immortal, but still retain his full magical powers. Voldemort does not, of course, realize we know he seeks this amulet."

"Do you know where it is?" Ginny put in, eyes wide. "Does….Voldemort….does _he_ know where to find it?"

"Nobody knows where to find it," Dumbledore said simply. "Although I have a few ideas…"

Harry regarded Dumbledore narrowly. He just knew there was something Dumbledore wasn't telling them.

"What about Snape though?" Ron demanded suddenly. "I reckon he's the traitor, Professor, and he's got some sort of link with the vampires, Hermione said so…"

Ron shrank back rather at the flash of anger in Dumbledore's blue eyes. "Ron," he said sternly, "I will not keep on reminding you of this. I trust Professor Snape. You have no reason to doubt his loyalty."

"What, you mean apart from him burning my house down!" Ron shot back, hunching his shoulders. He was too upset to really consider that this was Dumbledore he was talking to.

"Ron," Dumbledore said more gently. "I have already explained…how could Professor Snape convince Voldemort of his loyalty if he refused to participate in any…errands?"

"An errand," Ron muttered hotly. "Some errand!"

But he did subside under Dumbledore's firm gaze.

Hermione took a deep breath. "And…the vampire connection…?" she ventured tentatively.

"Any knowledge Professor Snape has gained of vampires is his own business," Dumbledore said in voice that brooked no questioning. "As he used it to save the lives of Harry and Ginny here last night, I would recommend that you simply leave it at that."

Dumbledore clearly thought he had told them all it was necessary for them to know. He took his leave, promising Mrs Weasley that he would return for a private discussion with her and other Order members later in the day.

Harry tapped his fingers on the table. He was not satisfied. Not at all: Dumbledore was still keeping secrets.

He wouldn't stand for it.


	9. Chaptern Eight:Diagon Alley

It took two days for them to persuade Mrs Weasley to let them leave the house.

Well:- 'persuade' was possibly not the right word.

It was more a campaign against the nerves: a household of bored, scowling teenagers versus Mrs Weasley. How long before she would crack? Ginny conscripted Fred and George into the cause, and orchestrated the whole affair.

"It's an art form," she instructed them all airily. "You have to push just hard enough to get her shouting, but not so much that she can't stop. If you get her going so badly she can't stop, you've blown it."

Fred and George nodded proudly in agreement, pleased their little sister was growing into such a worthy successor. Ron, on the other hand, looked at her with vague horror. "Are all girls this devious?" he muttered into Harry's ear.

Broadly speaking, the lines of attack were as follows:

"I'm _bored_, Mum." Ginny, whining.

"I don't see why we can't go to Diagon Alley. I mean, it's nearly Christmas. We won't even get any presents this year, they blew up…Can't we at least go window shopping?" Ron, bitterly.

"Oh, let them come, Mum. We'll look after them. We're over age, after all. They can hang out at the shop." Fred and George, heartily.

"Please, Mrs Weasley. I'd really like to be able to get some books so I can keep up with my studies before next term." Hermione, timidly.

Ginny watched carefully for the precise moment her mother began to turn red around the ears, and nodded the ceasefire. They waited, tensely.

"FINE! JUST FINE! YOU GO OUT THERE AND GET YOURSELVES ALL KILLED! GIVE ME SOME PEACE AT LAST!"

Mrs Weasley slammed pots around. BANG, the heavy cauldron in which she was preparing stew for dinner. CRASH, the rolling pin. She turned and glared at the five of them.

"All right," she said, slightly more calmly.

Ginny, out of her line of sight, beamed and made a thumbs-up sign. Mrs Weasley continued. "I suppose you can't come to much harm once you're there. But you need someone to escort you. _Yes,_ Fred and George, I know you are over-age. But you didn't get your NEWTS, did you? You left school, as I recall. You aren't qualified wizards, if I remember rightly…"

"Head her off, head her off," Ginny hissed urgently into Harry's ear.

"That's great, Mrs Weasley," Harry said loudly. "Who can we ask to go with us? I've never been to Diagon Alley at Christmas before, I'm really looking forward to it…"

Mrs Weasley's face softened. "Dear Harry. Of course you must see Diagon Alley at Christmas. But you do all need to be very careful. I'll ask Bill if he can spare an hour to take you. You'll be safe once you're there as long as you _stick to the main street_. Is that clear, all of you? Then you can meet Bill at Gringotts to bring you home.."

They dispersed rapidly, before she could change her mind. Ginny, in particular, faded off with some speed. Her leg was nearly healed, but she still looked a little peaky from the after-effects of poison in her system.

"What do we do about clothes?" Harry asked doubtfully, looking at the thick wizarding robes in which they were all dressed. "If we have to cross Muggle London to get there, we're not exactly going to blend in."

"We have a charm for that," Fred informed him. "We've been using it ever since they stopped letting us use the Floo network except when specially monitored. Here, see – _MUGGLIFY_!"

Harry blinked. In front of him stood a short, stocky redhead apparently wearing a baseball cap and a bomber jacket.

"It's really cool," George told him. "It's just an illusion. Once we get to the Leaky Cauldron, we DeMuggle, and we're done!"

Bill Apparated to the house in response to his mother's summons. He didn't look too pleased.

"Come on, you lot," he said brusquely. "I'm supposed to be at work now, you know. The head goblin won't be impressed if he finds I've gone running off to babysit."

They followed meekly. Outside, the air was cold but not damp. The crisp chill burned red spots onto their noses and ears. Muggle London was still exciting to Harry. The Dursleys hadn't exactly taken him on numerous expeditions beyond Little Whinging. The trip to the zoo just before his first year at Hogwarts had been the absolute high point of his travels in their company.

It didn't take long to get to Charing Cross. The Leaky Cauldron was busier than Harry remembered ever seeing it. He supposed people were doing last-minute Christmas shopping. The bustle, buzz and convivial atmosphere lifted his spirits no end.

"Hey," Fred said. "Harry smiled!"

"Not any more," George observed, watching Harry's expressive features. "That's some scowl, been taking lessons from old Snapey?"

Harry grinned again despite himself. Bill tapped the wall in the alley at the back of the pub. It drew itself back to reveal a vibrant scene. Harry blinked. He had always thought Diagon Alley a sight to behold. At Christmas, it was an absolute riot of colour and noise. It was packed with witches and wizards in every variety and shade of robes, laden with odd-shaped parcels.

"Right," Bill said firmly, and quite loudly to be heard over the cacophony of street-sellers. "You heard Mum. Main street only, OK? You can meet me back at Gringotts in, um, two hours. Right?"

He was about to turn on his heel when Harry called to him. "Bill! Could I come to Gringotts with you? I need some money!"

"Hmm." Bill looked assessingly at Ron and Ginny. "I'd better give you two some as well, hadn't I? I don't suppose you had any coins on you when we got out of the Burrow…"

"Or even before that," Ron muttered, kicking a stone.

Fred and George left for their joke shop, currently under the stewardship of Lee Jordan, making hasty arrangements to meet up at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour later. Harry wasn't sure it was quite the weather for ice cream, but Ron assured him that hot toffee sundaes at Floreans were an experience worth having.

The goblins wouldn't let Hermione, Ron and Ginny accompany Harry to his vault. He was grateful. He didn't want them to see its contents. It made him ashamed, to be so rich when the Weasleys were so poor.

"Great," Hermione said briskly, as he rejoined them, "Flourish and Botts, then!"

"The _bookshop_!" Ron moaned. "I thought that was just a ruse to get Mum to let us come!"

Hermione threw her bushy hair back. "I thought you wanted to find out about this amulet thing…"

"Oh, yeah, right. But can't we do some proper shopping first? I mean, look!" Ron held out his hand in excitement. Bill had given three Galleons to both him and Ginny.

They browsed happily for some time. There was such a press of people, it took Harry some time be sure of it. But as they moved from shop to shop, he became quite certain that somebody was following them.

He whispered as much to Hermione, who glanced nervously behind her. "Stop that!" Harry said. "If they are following us, we don't want them to know we know…"

"And why would that be?" Hermione asked sarcastically. "Just in case we scared them off?"

"Well, we need to know who it is, don't we?" Harry pointed out. "So we can out work out what they want with us."

They ducked into a doorway in the pretence of rearranging their parcels.

"There," Harry hissed. "Look."

Ron cast a would-be casual glance in the direction Harry had indicated.

"Harry, you prat!" he exclaimed. "OY! PERCY!"

The skinny, cloaked figure whom Harry was convinced had been tailing them now came up to them. He threw back his hood and Harry saw it was indeed Percy. His horn-rimmed spectacles pinched the top of his nose as he looked down at them.

"Really, Ron," he admonished. "Must you bellow after me in the street like that? I do have a certain standing to maintain, you know. I was just about to catch you up anyway."

Harry was silent. He hadn't seen Percy since the Triwizard Tournament. The year after, Percy had done his best to persuade Ron that Harry was a lunatic, and had even broken links with his own family. Harry was glad Percy was back on speaking terms with the Weasleys. But it didn't mean he had to like him.

The feeling was apparently mutual. Percy's thin lips pursed as he saw Harry, although he unbent sufficiently to smile benignly at Hermione. She nodded politely at him, but her eyes were dark.

Ginny, it seemed, had not forgiven Percy at all. She was glowering at him like an offended cat.

"Ginevra," Percy said to her kindly. "How nice to see you looking so well."

Ginny snorted. _"I just got nearly eaten by Hell Hounds_," she whispered in Harry's ear. "_I'm positively blooming_. _Prat._"

Percy frowned at her.

"Hello, Percy," Harry said loudly. "How are you, then?"

"Harry." Percy's thin nose twitched as if someone had shoved a Dungbomb underneath it. Inconsequentially, Harry was reminded that the Weasleys were related to Narcissa Black. "Hmm."

"Well," Ron said awkwardly. "We're just doing some shopping. So, we'll be on our way then, OK?"

"A word with you, Ron."

Percy grabbed Ron's shoulder and detained him as the others began to move on down the street. They watched curiously as Percy spoke earnestly to Ron. Ron drew back as if angry, then whirled around and marched towards them. Percy watched him for a moment, then walked off himself in the opposite direction.

"I'm going to kill him one day, so help me," Ron said through gritted teeth. "I don't care if he is my _own brother_!"

"What did he say?" Hermione asked quietly.

"He said," Ron spat out, "that he saw I was still being careless about the company I keep. He said I should watch my step."  
  
Harry was puzzled. "What's he on about now then? I thought most of the Ministry were coming round to the idea that Dumbledore was right about Voldemort all along.." By extension, this meant Harry had ceased to be an arrogant, attention-seeking, disturbed teenager, and had once more become the Boy Who Lived.

Ron shook his head grimly. "Percy's still not convinced, you know. He reckons it's all exaggeration. He even thinks people like Malfoy have a point!"

Ginny stamped her foot, scandalized that any close relation of hers would share the time of day let alone an actual opinion with Lucius Malfoy.

"But Malfoy's in _Azkaban!_" Harry exclaimed in amazement. "He's a proven _Death Eater_!"

"Percy thinks that's all a mistake. That Malfoy was just on the wrong side of a political struggle for power. He thinks Malfoy was framed…"

"_Framed_?" Harry spat out. "Like, how? 'Oh there you are, Lucius, be a dear and put this nice mask on, and while you're about it just point your wand at that child over there and say "_crucio_", would you?'"

"Malfoy," Ron added darkly and meaningfully, "is a very rich man…His support still means a great deal in terms of career advancement. Even from Azkaban, Dad says. Although it's his wife who is pulling the strings now."

Harry was shocked by the implications.

"And why does Percy still have it in for me so much?" he demanded. "I don't like him, either, but…"

Ron looked shifty. "Well. Just at the moment, mate, he kind of blames you for The Burrow being burned down.."

Harry looked down. His insides wormed.

"Time for Florean's," Hermione interrupted hastily. "And then off to Flourish and Bott's!"


	10. Chapter Nine: Knockturn Alley

Ron had been right, Harry discovered. Florean's hot toffee sundaes were delicious. He had never realized before how exquisite something both icily cold and richly hot all at the same time could be.

Fred and George had met them there as arranged, but did not stay long. Their shop was doing so well Lee could not handle the trade on his own, and they wanted to get back and help him. Harry was pleased to see this evidence of financial success in the Weasley family.

Harry was just allowing the last warm, velvety flavours to slip down his throat when he saw another familiar figure sweep past.

"_Look_," he hissed, straightening in his seat.

Ginny, Ron and Hermione jerked their heads round.

The man was too tall to lose himself in the crowd. He was completely muffled by a voluminous cloak and hood. But the four Hogwarts students were entirely capable of recognizing the distinctive swooping walk of their Potions Master when they needed to.

"_Snape_," Ron muttered, an ugly look on his face. "What's he up to? I'll bet he isn't doing his Christmas shopping….doubt he's got anyone to buy presents for anyway!"

"I'm following him," Harry said suddenly.

He flung some coins on the table and dashed after the man he was sure was Snape. His friends followed, Hermione with noticeably less enthusiasm than Ron or Ginny.

Their quarry looked neither to right nor left. Diagon Alley heaved with customers, but Snape simply strode on his way as though they were not there. The crowds parted hastily to allow him passage. His four pursuers wriggled after him. "Excuse me – "; "Sorry." "Excuse me."

Snape approached Gringotts and turned down a murky little side-passage.

"That's Knockturn Alley!" Hermione exclaimed. "We can't go down there!"

"You go to the bookshop then," Ron said to her, his eyes still tracking the back of Snape's head. He was eager to catch Snape in some nefarious activity, and prove to the Order once and for all that the man should not be trusted.

Hermione hesitated, then gave an exasperated sigh and followed after her friends.

Knockturn Alley was every bit as unsavoury as Harry recalled from his previous involuntary visit, when he had Floo'ed to the wrong fireplace. It was darker and dingier than the main street. There were still plenty of shoppers about, but they lacked the festive cheer of those in Diagon Alley. In fact the whole place was uncannily quiet for the number of people thronging around. Even the streetsellers seemed not to like to conduct their business too noisily. Huddled shapes watched them intently from dark porches. It gave Harry the creeps.

The four of them ignored all attempts to sell them items such as shrivelled body parts, mummified eyes, and vials of a dark sticky substance labelled "liquefied hearts". Harry was uneasily conscious that they looked out of place here. They did not exactly blend into the crowd. What with Harry's well-known features and famous lightning scar, two flaming redheads, and a girl with a great bush of hair, he was sure they would be memorable figures if anyone cared to ask about them.

And this was a place, he was sure, where all information was available for a price.

It was not a place for honest business. Snape was surely up to something… Then it occurred to Harry that he would feel very stupid if all Snape did was visit the apothecary to collect Potions ingredients not readily available elsewhere. What those ingredients might be, made Harry feel rather queasy.

However, the shop Snape finally ducked into was so covered in grime it was hard to tell what its business might be.

They looked at each other. What next?

"We can't all go in," Harry said in a low voice. "We'd be far too visible. I'll sneak in and try to hide behind some of the shelves, see if I can hear what he's up to."

The others didn't look too happy about this arrangement, but saw Harry's point. Harry pulled the hood of his robes well forward over his face, and crept quietly through the shop door. He tried to make his entrance silently, but as he slipped into the shop he realized this was not necessary; a jumble of noises met his ears -- groans, muffled screams, sobbing - that Harry didn't want to think about too closely.

Harry stood in the shadows, and peered about from under his hood, hoping there would be somewhere to hide if necessary. Snape was not in view, which hopefully meant he could not see Harry either.

It seemed to be some kind of junk shop, stuffed with peculiar, mis-matched items. The odd and distinctly unsettling noises seemed to be coming from these, in some way. Harry stole forwards, and peeped round the corner of what looked like a wardrobe. Snape was standing at the front of the shop, staring ahead of him and drumming his fingers impatiently against the counter. Harry drew back, and had no difficulties at all lurking unseen behind a large cabinet wedged unevenly against the wall. Inside the cabinet, he could hear a faint, angry wailing. Harry swallowed. Still, he supposed it would hide the sound of his breathing, which seemed suddenly very noisy in his own head. He did not care to contemplate Snape's reaction should he realize Harry was there.

However, this was a perfect place from which to overhear Snape's conversation. Harry waited, tensely. He heard footsteps coming from the depths of the building. That must be the proprietor of the shop.

"Yes, master. How may I serve you?" The shopkeeper's voice was husky and obsequious. For some reason, it made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand up.

Snape said a word. Harry blinked, puzzled. What Snape said had been perfectly audible. Harry had heard it perfectly. Except – at the same time he hadn't heard it at all. He had no idea what word Snape had uttered.

"Ah! It is you. Master." The shopkeeper breathed. "Yes, Master, we may speak. We are alone."

"Well?" Snape sounded in a bad mood. Harry couldn't find it in himself to be sorry for the shopkeeper, but he knew how he would have felt if on the receiving end of that particular note in Snape's voice.

"I fear, Master, I'm afraid to tell, we have had no luck yet."

"And why is that?" Snape inquired silkily.

"Master, do not blame me! I am but a humble shopkeeper, a purveyor of fine goods. I have tried, yes indeed, most earnestly, most secretly and silently have I contacted my colleagues across the world, yes, right around the globe, and still –"

"Stop blethering," Snape hissed. "Tell me what I want to know _briefly_. The less I hear of your voice the better."

"Very well, Master, very well, it shall be as you decr – ah – ah – Master, please! Yes. Well. We cannot find it." The shopkeeper abandoned his fulsome manner and spoke baldly.

"You – cannot – find – it. You promised me, do you remember? You assured me on the very essence of your soul in this life and all others –"

"I did not say I _could_ not find it, Master!" The shopkeeper sounded frightened. "I am still awaiting word from Mongolia…."

"You had better hope the word from Mongolia is positive," Snape growled menacingly. "Or I will _personally_ ensure that you – ah – wish it were."

"Yes, Master. Please. Do not – do not – "

"Yes?" Snape was not visible to Harry, but he could well imagine how his eyes would be glinting darkly as he spoke.

"Do not tell.._him_…that I have failed," the shopkeeper whispered.

There was a long pause. Harry's imagination supplied Snape drumming his long fingers on the table and looking at the shopkeeper as if he were a flesh-eating slug: just the same as when he looked at Harry while he considered what detention to give him.

"For now," Snape said finally. "For now. My patience wears thin, however. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Master."

Snape was moving; Harry could hear him. Harry concentrated hard on being unnoticeable, shrinking against the cabinet and keeping his head well down. _I'm not here, I'm not here,_ he thought as Snape swept past him. Thankfully Snape did not seem to have paused to look around, but headed directly for the exit with his purposeful stride. Harry heard the door banging. He took this to mean Snape had left. He waited a while longer. He could hear the shopkeeper shuffling around. Then those footsteps finally seemed to be heading for the back of the shop, so Harry peeked cautiously out from behind the cabinet.

The place was empty. Harry stole across the shop and let himself out, closing the door behind him with care.

He could see no sign of the others. Presumably they had ducked into hiding when Snape had come out of the shop. Alone, he was even more conscious of the sinister, wordless figures watching him. They seemed to press around him with unspoken menace. He was almost sure he heard one of them whisper his name in a sibilant undertone. "_Harry Potter…_" But no; he still wore his hooded cloak; he must be imagining it….

Still, Harry hastened his steps as he began to head back towards Diagon Alley, hoping his friends were still around here somewhere. He realized he felt rather vulnerable, here on his own.

To his relief, three familiar figures huddling in a doorway ran towards him. He smiled in relief.

"Harry!" Hermione gasped. "What –"

"I'll tell you later," Harry muttered. He had a strong feeling that Knockturn Alley was not the place to discuss the matters he had just been eavesdropping on.

They scurried up the street. A hag-like vendor detained them for a while, trying to intimidate them into buying her wares. This was a tray piled high with maggoty creatures which blinked up at them with beady black eyes.

"Nice afternoon snack, children?" the hag hissed at them, baring broken, pointy teeth and peering down at them with leering eyes.

They could hear the hag's cackling laughter as they broke away. They looked fixedly at the ground and walked on, in the manner of shoppers everywhere when accosted by unwelcome beggars or traders.

Thus, none of them noticed the tall, hooded figure standing glaring at them a few yards ahead with folded arms.

None of them noticed as he moved smoothly across their path to bar their way.

And, thus, it came as complete shock to them all when Snape reached out a hand and grabbed Harry's throat in his long fingers. The four of them halted abruptly, mouths dropping.

"_Oh bugger_," Ron could be heard to mutter under his breath. "Harry –"

Snape lightly squeezed his fingers around Harry's neck, who involuntarily raised his own arms to grab at Snape's hand. Harry's eyes were wide, like a rabbit caught in headlights.

"Why, Mr Potter, I believe," Snape said grimly, glaring down into Harry's dismayed face. "You stupid – _stupid_ – boy."

_Notes to reviewers –_

Dr Huff-Puff..forgot to answer this before, I suppose I thought Harry couldn't consciously do wandless magic and would need a wand to summon a wand.. And Dumbledore most definitely hasn't been telling the whole truth!

Prophetess of Hearts. Well, Harry did try that..Mrs Weasley was just too proud to accept. Percy a DE? Well well, interesting idea…

Barbara Kennedy. Oops, Flourish and Blotts it is. Thank you. And re your character analysis – Harry has certainly never subscribed to the idea that discretion is the better part of valour!

LunaShadows. Yep. Percy is a prat. And as for what's up with Severus..you can't expect me to give my plot away, now can you!

Ecot. I think most of the Weasleys realize that. Will Ron, this is the question….he does so hate being poor, doesn't he!

Mystical Panther. Why is Percy so pissed off? Interesting question. He still doesn't like his family associating with Harry, does he?

CapriceAnne Hedican-Kocur. The traitor has still got some betraying to do before you find out who s/he is….

Oya. Yep, feet first, brains later: that's our Harry. A sort of fatal flaw type thingy.

CastusAlbusCor. Thank you.

Silverthreads. TY for reviews…yes, tension.. more to come, I promise.


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